Identity Theft
by MyHeartsDesire
Summary: As the title implies, Neal gets his identity stolen in Venice and does not handle it well. Apologies if Neal seems a little OOC, just wanted some good old angst, whump, whatever you wanna call it. And of course Peter's there to comfort our favorite con in his time of need. Enjoy!


**First White Collar fic! Came to me in a dream after seeing the ep where we find out Neal uses his mom's maiden name. It's only gonna be a one-shot and I apologize if Neal seems a little OOC. Lots of angst, whump, and some Peter comfort of course. Hope you like it!**

Neal always loved Italy, he'd actually hidden out around here for a bit while he was on the run. But as much as he loved the gorgeous city of Venice, he was damn tired. Interpol had asked the team for some help on a case and it had not been easy. The main culprit was finally arrested this morning, but the accomplice had slipped their grasp. Neal hadn't liked that guy from the start. Everyone agreed that the two had a similar resemblance, it was like going after a Bizaro Neal, the opposite and not so nice version of the con they had come to know and love. But Interpol said they could handle Jacobs and had given the White Collar the all clear to leave, as well as their gratitude. Their plane would leave first thing in the morning.

Scrubbing a tired hand over his eye Neal trudged over to the front desk at their hotel. "Mi scusi signora, I need to add one more night to my stay. My name is Neal Caffrey."

The pretty young woman frowned. "I'm sorry signore, but the computer says you have checked out of the Plaza hours ago. We've already given your room to another."

"What?" Neal asked bewildered. "That's impossible, I've been at Interpol all day! What about my things?!"

"Signore please do not raise your voice," the clerk said in a clipped voice. "I am just telling you what the computer says."

Neal sighed, this day could not get any worse. "You know what, here," he whipped out his credit card. "Just put me in another room."

The woman nodded and began typing away. Once she ran the card however a frustrated look came over her face. "The card has been declined, you do not have enough funds."

"Not-not enough funds?!" This was getting ridiculous, Neal leaned on the counter and whispered. "There was four million dollars in that account this morning! I know I have enough funds!"

"Mr. Caffrey I understand your frustrations but-"

"Caffrey? As in Neal Caffrey?" A fellow desk attendant said. The short man stepped toward the two. "Signora Adessi this is not Neal Caffrey."

"He is not?" The woman turned back to Neal, a scowl on her face.

The man replied, "No signora, I checked him out myself this afternoon. Though this man does look similar, he is not Mr. Caffrey."

Neal's blood ran cold, and he quickly dug through his pocket. When he found the paper he was looking for he unfolded it and passed it to the attendant. "Is this the man you checked out?"

The short Italian squinted his eyes at the picture, "Si signore, that is him. _That_ is Neal Caffrey. He had all his belongings, passport, luggage, everything. He then left to catch his flight."

The woman's eyes narrowed, "Grazie Marco, you may go." Once Marco left she said quietly, "As you can see this establishment is very busy, I do not have time to deal with a man pretending to be someone they are not."

Neal felt like he'd been punched in the gut. "B-but I am Neal Caffrey!" He started to reach for his badge, "If I can just show you-"

"I do not have time to look at whatever other cards you may have taken, I'm sure the real Mr. Caffrey has frozen those accounts as well. Now I suggest you leave now _signore_ , or shall I call the sicurezza?" He followed her gaze to the burly man in the corner, who started walking toward the desk.

Snatching back his card Neal spat, "Not neccessary," before turning and leaving the building. Once the air hit him however the anger dissipated, leaving nothing but a building panic. He stumbled to a cafe table outside the hotel and placed his head in his hands, trying to catch his breath while the events replayed in his mind. Soon though it was just one phrase on a loop, _this is not Neal Caffrey..._

~~~~~~~Peter~~~~~~~

Peter was exhausted, but happy overall. His team had done good today, and tomorrow he would be home with El in his arms again. He stepped outside, taking in the beauty of the city one last time. He'd have to take his wife here sometime, she'd love it. Maybe their next anniversary…Something caught his attention at the corner of his eye. He recognized his charge instantly and headed his way with a smile.

"What are you doing up Neal I thought you said you were turning in for the night?" As Peter got closer he noticed something was off. Besides his head being buried in his hands every few seconds Neal's shoulders heaved up, and Peter could hear a gaspy sound of someone trying to breathe. The agent rushed the last few steps, "Neal! What is it?!" But the con couldn't answer, Peter realized the young man was on the verge of hyperventilating. Acting quickly Peter wrapped an arm around shaking shoulders and guided Neal away from the table. Thankfully Interpol hadn't taken back the team's temporary surveillance vehicle yet. It had also doubled as their ride back from the station. Opening the door Peter ushered Neal inside, hoping the somewhat familiar setting would calm the man down. When the door shut there was little light, Peter could hardly make out Neal's face.

"You have to talk to me Neal, what happened?" He asked in his best 'agent voice.'

Neal began pacing the small van, his hands tugging his hair. "He took it," he muttered, "He fucking took it!"

"Who took what Caffrey?"

"Jacobs! Jacobs took my fucking identity!" Neal exclaimed with a cracked shout.

Peter could hear the erratic breathing easily. "God I'm so sorry Neal. But, it'll be ok. We'll make some calls, freeze your accounts-"

"Damn it Peter I don't care about the money! I don't care about my things!" the outburst was borderline hysteric. "He. Has. My. _Name_!"

Peter was more than a little confused, Neal didn't care about the money? He wished he could get a read on the ex-con's face but all he could see was shadow. The agent tried to tread cautiously. "Ok…but Neal, don't you go through names all the time, when you were on the run or go undercover…"

"Aliases Peter! Those are different! I make up those names, I don't take them from other-" The shadowed frame shook in the darkness as his voice died out. Peter had never seen Neal so distressed. To be honest the agent wasn't entirely sure what to do. Out of nowhere Neal struck the wall with his fist, the loud bang startling his partner. "You don't get it! He has my name Peter! The one connection to my mom and _he has it_!"

Neal's voice broke in the darkness when he shouted. The words sunk in and Peter finally understood. He'd almost forgot Caffrey was his mother's maiden name. Suddenly it all made sense. As irrational as it was Neal believed he lost the only connection he had to her. With knowing so little about his father and all Peter could understand the fear of 'losing' another parent. Even if it was just her name. Peter stood up, about to tell Neal to calm down when a knocking startled the two.

"Boss?" Diana's muffled voice said, "Everything alright? There was word of some noise coming from here." Jones opened the door slightly, and a shred of light from the outside came in. But it was enough. Even with Neal's back to the open door Peter could see the wet tracks on the young man's face, the fresh tears still streaming even now.

"Oh Neal…" Peter said quietly. He had never seen the usually charming and suave con so innocent, so vulnerable. He looked like a lost child. It broke the older man's heart. Not taking his eyes off Neal's he ordered, "Give us a minute." Sensing the seriousness in their leader's voice the two nodded before silently closing the door. The moment it was shut Peter stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the younger man. Neal clung to Peter desperately, burying his face in a shoulder while he broke down. Peter let him get it out, bringing a hand to the back of Neal's head, rubbing gently down his back and up again. The feeling was soothing and Neal was grateful for it. He continued to cry and Peter continued to hold him, hushing him softly. The tenderness only made Neal cry harder but he just couldn't stop.

"Now you listen to me," Peter murmured. His only respond was Neal's hands tightening into his suit. "You haven't lost anything. No matter what happens, you are _always_ going to be Neal Caffrey." Neal tried to shake his head but Peter persisted, "I mean it. Jacobs may be calling himself Neal, but he's just pretending. There's only one of you in the world and that is _you_. And thank god for that because I don't know if I could handle two of you." The tease got a hiccupy laugh from Neal and Peter smiled. "See? You know I'm right. It will all be ok Neal, I promise I will do all I can to get Jacobs. This whole mess will be behind you soon." He pulled back gently, bringing his hands up to wipe the remnant tears that had finally slowed down. Neal made a face but let his caretaker do so. "Now, how about you get some rest?"

He watched as Neal frowned, fresh tears starting to well up. "I-I can't," he whispered. "Jacobs, I think he-snuck in-to my room. H-he took my things and checked out. I don't-"

"Shh," Peter brought him back into the crook of his neck, feeling him tremble against him. "It's ok, it's fine. You'll stay in my room tonight. I'll call Interpol and Hughes back at home. With both of them looking we'll catch that son of a bitch before you know it. I promise."

Neal's breathing finally calmed down a bit and he looked up, giving a watery smile. "Thank you Peter."

The sincerity in his voice made Peter give his own half smile, "You're welcome. Now come on, it's been a long day. It's time you got some rest." After giving Neal a minute to compose himself the two exited the van. Jones and Diana stood up but Peter told them to relax the rest of the night, giving a slight shake of his head at their questioning looks. In the hotel the woman at the desk began to call security, telling Peter the man beside him could not stay. Neal's head lowered but Peter didn't hesitate. A brief flash of his badge and a quiet insult of the incompetency of the hotel for allowing someone to steal this poor man's identity right from under their noses shut her up quickly. She stammered out apologies and gave an extra key to the agent, who handed it to a sheepish but smiling Neal. Once in the hotel room the ex-con changed quickly in the bathroom and plopped onto the bed, exhausted from his breakdown.

Within a minute he was almost asleep but he managed to mumble out one more, "Th'nk you P'ter," before his eyes drifted shut. Peter smiled warmly and got up from the desk, tucking the blanket more snugly around his charge. Running a kind hand through messy hair he said, "Anytime Neal." Peter then grabbed his phone and began making quiet calls, he had a promise to keep.

 **The end! Hope you enjoyed, let me know what you think!**


End file.
